Puffy white clouds obscured the top of the mountain. Brynn was traveling down Abon, the tallest of the trio known as the Trinity. The others were named Nabuma and Khazu.
During the winter solstice, the sun would set directly over the Abon’s peak when viewed from Galdir’s market square. The moment when it touched the top of the mountain, the Sun and the Earth became the All-Seeing Eye, guarding all the realm from danger. The yearly event was one of the most celebrated festival days of the year in Galdir, with people throughout the Realm converging on the market square to watch it.
Nabuma, off to Brynn’s left, contained a large salt mine deep beneath its bowels. The salt crystals from the mine were said to be the color of a full moon. According to legend, the salt deposit was in fact a remnant of the Moon, broken off during a long ago war between the gods. The remnant fell down to earth and was buried in Nabuma, becoming an unintentional gift to the people of Galdir.
Khazu, on Brynn’s right, full of rich soil at its base, was covered with vineyards. The wine produced from these vineyards was renowned throughout the Realm. Khazu was said to be the first child of Earth and the Sun, and its wine was its lifeblood, conferring all sorts of fantastical health benefits to those who had the fortune to taste it.
The Trinity formed the herald for the Realm of Galdir. The city owed its prosperity to these mountains, and also to the fertile valley and the strategic waterway of the Brokenhelm river. Galdir had been populated since before recorded history. It was said that the name was older than the Old Tongue, although no one knew for sure. Some claimed that it meant the Center … of Everything.
Brynn scrabbled down the steep, narrow path, which had obviously been made by hardy, sure-footed animals. More than once, he had slipped on a gravelly slope, nearly sliding off into one of the mountain’s many chasms.
He wondered whether he should he retreat back to where he came from. Would Seleeku still be there? Or was she already be finding her way back to the Far Forest? Although Nessana had been hostile to Brynn, he still wished him no harm.
He brushed those thoughts aside and kept going. The path became progressively more difficult. He considered giving up, when, luckily enough, the path intersected a larger, more gentle trail. With a sigh of relief, he followed the new trail downwards. Brynn assumed that the other direction led to the temple at the top. Some of the more able-bodied druids would periodically make pilgrimages to the temple to give offerings to Abon. Brynn had never gone there himself. He always had doubts as to whether the ancient mountain spirit was concerned with the affairs of mortals.
In due course, he approached a clear mountain stream and stopped for a rest. The stream cascaded over a low cliff, creating a waterfall of sorts. The water was frigidly cold, but it was most likely the only place where he could wash off some of the mud and grime before returning to Galdir. The sun was out, so Brynn decided he could dry off by simply basking in its warm rays afterwards.
He took off his robe and rinsed it as best he could, laying it atop of a large boulder next to the stream. Then he stood under the waterfall. The icy spray took his breath away.
He counted to ten before stepping out, shivering uncontrollably. Resting himself on the boulder, he soaked in the warmth from the sun and the stone. As he idly watched the clouds cloaking the mountain top, he let his imagination run wild. There was a castle in the sky. There was a fluffy dragon attacking the castle. A druid floated above both of them, swooping down to protect the castle.
A short while later, the clouds caught a breeze and sidled through the air, stopping when they were directly in front of the sun. The change in temperature was immediate. The cold mountain air left him trembling again.
Brynn stood up and held out his hands, imploring them to move, but they were unresponsive. He couldn’t tell whether they were blocking the sun on purpose or not. Clouds were ever-changing, fickle things, with cryptic whims and fancies. His robe was still damp. He was still damp. Couldn’t they just move? He began cursing at them, curses in the Old Tongue. Curses he learned as an apprentice in the College of Galdir. He didn’t know what the curses meant, exactly, but every apprentice learned them from the older students at some point.
“Delyead arnacragg! Swardergans ralsto!,” he swore at the clouds.
That caught their attention, but not in the way Brynn wanted. They lowered themselves down from the sky, sinking into the side of the mountain, until they surrounded Brynn with a wet, cold fog. Little flecks of snow settled onto his hair.
“I’ll never understand clouds at all,” Brynn grumbled to himself.
There was no sense in waiting them out. He donned his soggy robe and resumed his way down mountain. The fog enveloped him, making it difficult for him to pick out the trail. His steps became slower, more plodding. The damp cold made his teeth chatter. He was having difficulty concentrating on the ground in front of him. For all he knew, he was walking next to the edge of a precipitous cliff. Brynn experienced a moment of stomach churning vertigo, causing him to plunk down to the ground. He curled up into a ball. He was cold. Very cold.
He lay there clinging to his wet robe, his thoughts slow and slushy. The sound of tinkling bells chimed in the distance. Were fairies coming to visit him? He dared not look to see. The slightest glimpse of them was said to bewitch the unwary. He shut his eyes tight and listened. The bells grew louder, closer. He was surrounded by a cacophony of loud clanging bells. He had no idea that fairies could sound so raucous.
“Baa,” said one of the fairies. “Baa,” bleated another in response.
The bleating and clanging continued interminably. When one of the fairies nuzzled him on the cheek, he could no longer resist. He slowly opened his eyes and peered out.
A curious sheep stared directly into his face. “Baa?” it asked him. The bell that was tied to its neck rang in his ears.
Brynn had a dim memory of a shepherd standing over him. He was a short and sturdy man, with a tuft of a beard sprouting from his chin. He looked like a mountain goat in human form.
“You look like a goat,” Brynn mumbled to the shepherd. “I’m cold,” he added.
Then he was floating down the mountain. The clouds had taken pity on him and were carrying him away to safety … no, no, he was on a makeshift stretcher, his bones jarred and jangled by the two men roughly handling it. They cursed and complained in their thick Galdirian accents as they made their way down the steeper slopes.
He couldn’t stop shivering.
His thoughts were jumbled. He thought about the Fence and its runes, stretching on forever and forever, stretching out beyond the horizon, and the statue of Gror chasing after him in the Far Forest, and the hollow and its dark stare, watching over everything, and Seleeku, on the mountain, looking betrayed and without hope.
He dreamt.
“So this is your room?”
Brynn blinked. The world was out of focus. He slowly rubbed his eyes, clearing away the gunk.
He was lying on a small cot, in his room in the College of Galdir. The room was small. Tiny, really. The cot, along with a modest desk, barely fit in it. A thin slit of a window over the desk let in a diffuse light. Small as the room was, it was his own. He was a Druid of Galdir, and that conferred certain privileges.
Cramped into one corner was a man. A very large and imposing man, with gray, pallid skin. He was speaking to Brynn. “It’s … cozy,” the man commented.
“Kodroth? Is that you?” Brynn asked.
The man laughed. “Is it me? You ask a difficult question, Backstabber! I will answer with some of my own. Tell me, if my left arm were removed, and replaced with an exact copy—and I mean an exact copy, down to the tattoos, the scars, the bones, the very hairs on my skin—would I still be me? What if the same were to happen to my right arm? My legs? My torso? My head? What if my whole body were replaced with an exact copy? Would I still be Kodroth? What do you think, Backstabber?”
Brynn pushed himself to seated position. He struggled to sort through Kodroth’s crazy meanderings and gave up. “I think that you’re in my dream, so your questions don’t matter.”
“I’m in your dream?” Kodroth replied, feigning surprise. “And here I thought you were in mine.”
“Whose room are we in?” Brynn asked, gesturing at his surroundings.
“Ha! Good point, Backstabber. How would I know what your room looks like? But …” he wagged a distended finger at Brynn, “what if we’re both in someone else’s dream?” Kodroth shifted his body slightly, putting some of his weight against the desk. It squealed in protest.
“Why are you here, Kodroth? Didn’t you get what you want from me already?”
“Whatever do you mean? Did you not get what you wanted from me? Didn’t we save your friend’s life?” Kodroth replied.
His friend. Seleeku. Who he abandoned on the side of a mountain.
“I hope she’s still doing well?” Kodroth asked.
Brynn ignored the question. “The ritual released something, Kodroth. A spirit. A Darkness. You knew about the prophecy, didn’t you?”
Kodroth’s expression became unreadable. “Prophecy? I thought druids stayed away from the Old One’s ramblings about the future.”
“Sometimes they come to light,” Brynn replied vaguely. Was it possible that Kodroth didn’t know about Seleeku’s prophecies?
Kodroth said nothing. For a moment Brynn felt true fear, not the dream-like paralyzing fear he felt from Kodroth’s presence, but the fear of imminent violence. The fear that his very life was in danger. Brynn fought back the urge to run.
Kodroth slowly blinked. Then he laughed. It was loud and booming and made the room vibrate. “We all have our secrets, don’t we, Backstabber?” he chortled. “But remember, Backstabber, we are brothers. Brothers! Brothers shouldn’t keep secrets from each other. I forgive you. For now. Because we are brothers. Yes, because we are brothers.”
He placed a hand on Brynn’s shoulder. It looked and smelled like bloated death, and it’s icy grip felt like the biting wind that blows off a cold mountaintop. “We have plans for you, Backstabber. Wonderful, horrible plans. I will tell you a secret, because we are brothers. You will soon have an audience with the King. But don’t worry! Don’t be anxious! I’ll be with you the whole time!”
Brynn woke up drowsily. He was on his cot in his room in the College of Galdir. Someone had piled heavy woolen blankets on top of him. He was finally starting to feel warm.
He heard the door to his room open. A small, wizened man walked in. It was High Druid Themon. The High Druid’s vision was what had started Brynn’s journey to the far reaches of the Realm. He stepped over to the cot and looked down at Brynn.
“Tell me, Druid Brynn,” asked Themon, “why aren’t you in Brightmyst?”